Spirited Away
by Runic Healer
Summary: In a village within a primitive planet, children had gone missing within the past month. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were assigned to investigate, but Obi-Wan disappears. Qui-Gon must find him before he is lost forever. Inspired by Fatal Frame, Woman in Black, and Silent Hill. No Slash.
1. I

**Notes:**

I would like to thank WargishBoromirFan for beta-reading this fic~ I had to play through Fatal Frame and Silent Hill to get into the mood. The nightmares about ghosts, monsters, locked rooms, and creepy children were worth it. XD Silent Hill and Fatal Frame are highly suggested to be played, especially Silent Hill 2 and Fatal Frame 2. Oh yeah, Quiet Cradle's name was inspired by Silent Hill, but the setting was inspired from the Woman In Black.

I also suggest playing this www . youtube playlist?list=PL9D47CEB32D35A807&feature=plcp while reading. Each chapter will have a soundtrack of its own. :)

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Spirited Away

I

It was a small town in a primitive planet. Quiet Cradle was one of the many villages that dotted the planet Albion, and it was also one of the coldest. The planet's overall climate was better than in Hoth, but it came dangerously close.

A boy no older than thirteen with spiky auburn hair with a nerf tail and Padawan braid, green eyes, scrawny physique, and pale skin yawned. His robes hung tightly around his body; the cold around him was more than the usual climate in Coruscant. There was dampness in the air, and frost in the mist that left shivers that raced up and down the Padawan's spine. Obi-Wan hoped that they would quickly resolve the matter and return home where he could snuggle in his thermo blankets and indulge in hot milk.

"H-How long do you t-think this will last?" White puffs of breath escaped Obi-Wan's lips; he wanted to breathe through his nose, but it only gave his head a rush of frigid cold that left it aching.

Obi-Wan's master was a big, leonine man – long hair half-pulled back, blue eyes, a neat beard, and strong and handsome features that many found appealing. His physique was masculine, with well-defined muscles and strong limbs; Qui-Gon Jinn could intimidate anyone with his size. However, his wizened and gentle gaze was always present, making the Jedi Master easy to approach. He did not seem to mind the weather, even with his outer robe draped loosely over his Padawan; Qui-Gon released his discomfort with the cold to the Force. For now, however, his usually kind face was set in a stoic expression.

"We're almost there, Padawan. It would rather be prudent for us to wait patiently and quietly," Qui-Gon replied flatly, staring ahead and barely blinking.

Both rode a carriage, the planet's technology was lagging so much that only a few cities have speeders, and the fastest primitive transport was by rail transits and steam trains; most of the planet's population either traveled by foot or carriage. Travelling across continents required steam boats and sailing ships, only the rich could afford starships.

Obi-Wan deflated, looking down with a forlorn expression. He hugged himself, hoping to warm his freezing arms and frigid fingers.

"Y-yes, Master Jinn." The carriage rattled, and both occupants almost flew off their seats. Thankfully, Obi-Wan remained seated, but his master received a nasty bump to the head.

Rubbing it, Qui-Gon checked outside the window of their carriage once again as the village made out of wood and stone came into view. A thick, black forest surrounded the area, and the road leading to the village forked in the direction of a distant mansion. Only a few miles left, and the pair of Jedi would be meeting the sheriff that sent the request.

Their mission was limited to only Quiet Cradle, it wasn't anything big, and it was deemed safe enough for a new Padawan and Master to accept it. Reports of children going missing were given to the Jedi. The sheriff said that most of them disappeared into the forests, never to reappear. These incidents were common in their village, but what made them ask for Jedi assistance was the sudden disappearance of most of children in Quiet Cradle.

Qui-Gon had been adamant in declining the mission, saying that a mission of this nature was dangerous to someone like Obi-Wan. However, it was Yoda and Mace that made him begrudgingly accept the mission.

And now, here he was: in a primitive carriage, drawn by sturdy horses, in a frozen planet.

At least Qui-Gon appreciated the pair of majestic life-forms.

As for Obi-Wan, he kept his misery tight inside his shields. It has been a few months since Qui-Gon accepted him as his apprentice on Bandomeer, yet Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel that their relationship was… strained.

Strained didn't cover it.

Staring towards the window, Obi-Wan sighed, not knowing how to break the awkward silence. Swallowing, Obi-Wan hugged himself tighter, sinking into the cushion of the carriage and mentally recited the Code.

Qui-Gon frowned, testing Obi-Wan's shields. Some of his discomfort leaked through, but the boy had no idea how to express it. Ever since Bandomeer, the young Jedi suddenly became subdued. Timidity and blind obedience were now ever present in Obi-Wan, his temper seemingly locked away and his confidence vanished.

Breathing through his nose, Qui-Gon decided to recount the details the Council gave them.

Most of the children that had gone missing varied from age four to ten, and anyone older that had gone missing was rare. It was also said that these children all went missing in the middle of the night, never to be found again.

Will of the Force or not, Qui-Gon believed that this mission would prove to be dangerous to Obi-Wan, and he would have rather picked a different one if not for the Council's meddling.

The carriage jolted again, and Qui-Gon received another bump to his head. He scowled and checked outside. Thankfully, they passed by the town entrance. The carriage halted in front of a small stone house.

Master and Padawan stepped out of the transportation and looked around Quiet Cradle.

A blanket of snow covered the road and buildings. Most of the buildings were old in design, with high roofs, stone walls, wooden doors, and narrow windows. Plenty of the houses had iron fences with intricate designs; inside them would be stretches of snow-covered earth that could have been a garden during the planet's spring time. The road had several paths that led to the market, the river, and a small playground.

A man greeted the pair. He wore a thick coat over his garments, but his cravat was visible. He was a plump man, pale due to the lack of sunlight the planet got, and his blonde hair was so dark that it almost looked brown. His grey eyes were small and beady, wrinkles from a mix of stress and joy lined his face, and his cheeks and nose were red from the cold. He looked jolly and kind, but an air of depression hung over him.

"Mayor Rufus Thompson?" Qui-Gon asked and the man nodded.

Obi-Wan wasn't paying attention. He was gazing around the town, looking at the villagers.

Men and women wearing thick and conservative clothing scurried about, all in a rush. Yet their rush wasn't due to a busy day; they all seemed eager to go home, afraid of staying out when night fell. To Obi-Wan's surprise, there were children outside, but they weren't playing around. Before he could continue his observations, he felt Qui-Gon tug from his end of the bond.

"Jedi?" Mayor Thompson asked.

"Yes, we received your distress signal, and we were hoping to help," Qui-Gon replied.

"I'm pleased that you both have made it. Come in, blighted cold is killing the lad." The older man ushered the pair inside what seemed to be his house. Thompson quickly hung his coat on a hanger and took Obi-Wan's and Jinn's to hang alongside his. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were led from a hall towards a parlor room.

The parlor was warm and cozy, a fire crackled in a nearby hearth, and thick curtains covered the windows. A thick, lavender, cushiony couch was in front of the fireplace, and a pair of lavender plush chairs stood at its side. A small rectangular table was at the center and there was a rug beneath the wooden furniture, and red carpet covered the floor. Primitive picture frames hung over the wall, which was covered with red and gold-striped wallpaper. A large painting of a meadow was hung just above the fireplace.

"Here, sit. Tea?" Thompson motioned the pair towards the couch.

Obi-Wan sunk into the plush seat, enjoying the heat. Qui-Gon nodded towards the official. "Yes please."

The man quickly disappeared into the hall; his footsteps faded away.

"What have you seen so far?" Qui-Gon asked his young apprentice.

Looking down, Obi-Wan replied as steadily as he can. "Everyone feels miserable; all of them were worried about their children. They were all broadcasting their thoughts, so I'd say it was bad. Last night, three disappeared, but…"

Qui-Gon nodded, urging Obi-Wan to continue.

"There are too many children around, as if no one is missing. The children out there aren't hidden inside homes like most parents would if someone is kidnapping children."

Qui-Gon nodded, pleased at his apprentice's intuition. He let a tendril of approval flow through the bond, but Obi-Wan kept his reaction behind his shields.

"Good. However, I feel that there is more to this than meets the eye." Thompson returned, pushing a tea trolley.

The smell of bitter tea relaxed Qui-Gon and helped ease his frazzled nerves a bit. The mayor poured black tea into three ceramic cups and placed them over the table. He also set a plate of biscuits for them to eat and a pot of milk, sugar, and cinnamon. The man quickly sunk into one of the chairs, relieved at the presence of Jedi.

Cutting to the chase, Qui-Gon began to discuss the details of their mission. "We have received reports of missing children. You have detailed that it was not unusual in the past, but there was a sudden mass of disappearing children that prompted you to send a distress call to Coruscant."

"T'was true. However… Only a child or two would disappear in a year. Suddenly, twenty disappear on one night." However, it wasn't enough of an explanation for the Jedi to start an investigation.

"There are plenty of children outside; shouldn't they be scarce on the streets if plenty are disappearing?' Qui-Gon asked, boring on Thompson's eyes.

Thompson sighed tiredly; he dumped three sugar cubes on his tea and stirred them wearily. "They appear the next day."

"Then a kidnapper that experiments with children then?"

"There is no kidnapper."

Qui-Gon was annoyed at a mission that seemed to need no assistance, but he reasoned that the town's head wouldn't be sending a distress call if there was no need.

As for Obi-Wan, he kept quiet. Mission briefings usually bored him, so Obi-Wan chose to munch on the scones as silently as he could instead. From his periphery, he could see Thompson look up and past them, seemingly intent on staring through his and his master's head.

"Then why ask for help?"

"They… the children… They're, well, not the same."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "I understand that such events are traumatic for children. However, they appear the next day after disappearing in the night, and there is no kidnapper. A mind healer is a better solution than a knight. However, I will see what I can and report to the council and see what they can do."

Thompson deflated, slightly relieved. "Thank you, I… Follow me."

Thompson stood up and Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed suit. The pair followed the man back to the hall.

"Wait for a few moments, I'll call you when it's alright," Thompson said, looking towards the direction of the stairs of his home nervously. He padded towards the master and his apprentice, his boots pounding on the wooden floor.

"Padawan, you may explore the town, but do not stray too far. Be back before sundown," Qui-Gon dismissed his apprentice.

Obi-Wan nodded and quietly exited the home through the front door. Qui-Gon prodded the bond, however heavy shields met him so he let it at that instead. He heard Thompson call from the second floor, so he quickly climbed the stairs.

The whole house had stone walls, but its flooring was made out of wood. Qui-Gon found the older man beckoning him towards a baby blue door. Papers were pinned on the door, and its hinges were a little rusty, but it served its purpose. Qui-Gon quietly stepped inside, observing what seems to be the room of a child.

A bed with blue comforters were pushed to one side, a shelf full of toy soldiers and other wooden figures right next to it. A dresser was on the other side of the bed, and a small old fashioned lamp lay on top. Toys and porcelain figures were scattered on the floor. Blue curtains were draped over a small window with glass panes, but grills covered it—it reminded Qui-Gon of a cage. In front of the bed was a small table, with a pair of chairs tucked under it. On one chair, a boy no older than ten sat.

Thompson's mouth was set on a grim line, glancing at the occupant of the room. "This is Colin," Thompson inclined his head towards the boy.

The boy had brown hair; it clumped messily above his forehead. Like most inhabitants of the planet, he had pale and smooth skin. He wore a jumper over a white-button up shirt, his shorts reached an inch above his knees, and his socks were high enough to disappear in his shorts.

Qui-Gon was unnerved.

He couldn't feel the boy's presence in the Force, but that wasn't the only reason. Colin's half-lidded hazel eyes stared ahead unblinkingly. They were lifeless and blank. Colin didn't seem to be moving either, and for a second, Qui-Gon thought he was staring at a doll. The rise and fall of the boy's chest was the only indication he was alive.

"Colin, you have a visitor," Thompson bit out, looking away. Qui-Gon could feel the man's distress, frustration, and grief rolling off in waves. Qui-Gon had to tighten his shields to keep Thompson's emotions from bleeding through him.

Colin looked up and met Qui-Gon's eyes. The master felt a chill run down his spine and goose bumps formed over his skin. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to rub them away. The Force whispered an anomaly; there is something _wrong_ about this boy. The Force had no answers, other than that something horrible happened and no one knew how to reverse it. Colin just felt so… _wrong_.

Colin did not speak, nor did he blink. He only gazed at Qui-Gon, never faltering. Moments passed, and neither broke off the gaze. However, Qui-Gon's uneasiness in the situation increased, so he quickly broke off the gaze, turning to Thompson.

"I… I have no answers to this predicament, but I believe this is a grave matter indeed."

Thompson nodded, and quickly led Qui-Gon away from Colin's room. The mayor spoke as they headed back to the parlor.

"My son… He was… He, we… I tucked him into bed. He went to sleep like usual, then when Martha–" Thompson choked, but he continued, "He was gone. Then everyone around town crowded around our home, asking, looking for their own. I… We never found them, 'til sunrise. Then," he paused, meeting Qui-Gon's eyes, "they were like that. Old Lily was screaming nonsense, saying that _she_ returned. It was true this isn't the first time it happened. However, we… They were so many. I had never … They were just so much. Then the next day, ten were gone and… Then fifteen, then— it stopped, no one was taken for a few nights. Then last night, lad down the street was gone, and then he returned just earlier. I– Someone might disappear tonight, and I… I don't know what to do." Thompson croaked out, grief and guilt rolled off from him in large waves.

"How many children live here?"

"Around seventy."

Qui-Gon frowned, his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. At this rate, all of the children would... meet horrid fates in a few weeks' time.

Both arrived at the parlor, and Qui-Gon returned to the couch, and took his cooling tea.

"Ever since Tristan, the inn keeper's son, came back, this happened. Ever since his trip on Bandomeer…"

"Bandomeer?" Qui-Gon asked, not liking where this is going.

Thompson grabbed his own tea cup and swallowed the contents on one gulp, distressed. "There was a shortage a few weeks ago. Bandomeer was nearest place where we could get supplies. Her Majesty called for volunteers, Tristan went. We got what we needed then… Three days later, the children…" Thompson trailed off, tired. Qui-Gon frowned, but he felt the Force telling him to stay and investigate. Sipping the bitter tea, Qui-Gon bore into Thompson's eyes.

"Obi-Wan and I will be conducting an investigation. If we find something of interest, we'll contact the council as soon as we can," Qui-Gon promised, his blue eyes assuring the older man.

Thompson nodded. "Thank you."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Obi-Wan gazed around Quiet Cradle. Men in thick rags swept the snow away to clear the ground. Even then, the young Jedi could feel their impatience and the need to return home as soon as they could.

There were children on the streets. Their clothes did not seem very good for keeping the cold out, Obi-Wan observed. However, they didn't seem to be bothered by it at all. He wondered if they knew anything about the other children that disappeared.

He couldn't see their faces, but that didn't stop his desire to sate his curiosity. A girl stood on the porch of one of the houses, holding a small doll in her arms.

Obi-Wan was about to approach her, but a hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder. He cried out in surprise, and he felt himself twisted to meet his assaulter.

"_You!_ She will come for you, and you won't stop her! She will have you at last! She–"

Obi-Wan shook and his eyes were wide in fear. Blood pounded against his ears, his heart was beating wildly against his chest, and the horrid feeling of dread settled on the pit of his stomach. The hairs on his skin stood, and his legs felt weak. Was the floor spinning? He wasn't sure, the fear he felt almost choked him, and he felt some of it leak through his bond with Qui-Gon.

The woman shaking him had thin, white, and filthy hair. Her face was lined heavily, her cheeks were sunken, and her grey eyes were large and looked bruised–she looked like a skull. Her clothes looked no better than rags; they were torn and filthy. Her hands looked impossibly thin, and her veins bulged against her skin. Her expression terrified Obi-Wan, she looked like a half-starved animal ready to tear the nearest living thing with her hands.

Obi-Wan struggled, but her grip on him was too strong. He tried to pry her hands off his shoulders, but her seemingly fragile arms were stronger than they looked. Reaching in, he called for the Force for assistance. He was about to push the old woman off, but someone beat him to it.

"Ma!" The woman's hands lost their grip, and Obi-Wan fell flat on his rear.

The woman bowed her head down, but she muttered a slew of curses under her breath. Looking up, Obi-Wan saw his savior.

He blushed; the boy that saved him was rather… cute. He looked to be around fifteen. He had messy black hair; a few stray locks covered his forehead and framed his face. His eyes were grey-blue and clear, and they were alive with an inner light that Obi-Wan could feel through the Force. He wore a light cloak over his old waistcoat, and his trousers had a few small patches around the knees. His skin was pale and clear, but a tinge of pink was around his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

"Sorry 'bout tha'. Ma's been like tha' since fo'ever. He'e, I'll pull ya up." The boy held a gloved hand for Obi-Wan to take. Thankful, the Jedi grasped it and let himself be pulled up.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said in a soft whisper. The boy grinned and pulled Obi-Wan away from his mother.

"Me sis will be lookin' for Ma this morn, she should be tekkin' her back to tha inn. By tha way, I'm Tristan Hewley," the boy replied. The Padawan almost cringed at Tristan's accent. It sounded like Coruscanti, but it was thicker and heavier. It was more nasal and some of the consonants and vowels were dropped from each word.

"I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Tristan grinned and continued on, "You don' look like you're from 'ere. I'm sure tha' you're tha Jedi Ol' Man Rufus yammered abou'." He led Obi-Wan to the back of a building with a large cut-out of a frothing mug on front. "I've known tha' tavern girl 'round 'ere. She's been mindin' good 'ol me and pa eve' since ma wen' bonkers." Obi-Wan frowned at Tristan's implication of his mother's sanity.

Tristan seemed to have picked up on this. "Don' worr'e 'bout 'er. No one wan's ta 'ave 'barmy ol' Lily' anywe'e. Though, bloody Pa won' le' 'er go." Tristan produced a pair of red fruits from his trousers. He handed Obi-Wan one of them and he bit on his own.

"Oh…" Obi-Wan felt awkward; he never met someone to be so open to sharing their lives and problems.

"Ow 'bout you? You're 'ere, so you mus' be seein' why those li'l blighters been goin' on and comin' back." Tristan nodded to himself and took another large bite off his fruit. Obi-Wan played with his own, not feeling hungry.

"Well, Master Jinn and I did come to investigate the disappearances. However, as far as I can see, there doesn't seem to be any lack of children." Obi-Wan nibbled the fruit. It was rather sweet with small tangs of sour, but it was good and juicy.

"Ah, lads and lassies 'ave been spirite' away. Gooin' away a nigh, then comin' back withou' a soul. Ma's been ravin' 'bout it. I'm happy tha' it's you and Miste' Jinn bin sent. I wa' on Ban'omee' when you we'e both sent ta negotia'e."

Obi-Wan frowned; he didn't remember seeing Tristan in Bandomeer. Xanatos, Master Jinn, and the AgriCorps were the only clear things in mind. However, Tristan could have been in the sidelines as he helped out his master sort out the issues with Off-world.

"Oh, it was very… messy," Obi-Wan offered lamely, looking away with a tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks.

Tristan laughed, "Bloddy hell tha' was! I ne'er seen ligh' swo'ds in m' life!"

With a straight face, Obi-Wan countered, "Jedi must never resort to violence. But if we have light sabers and don't use it, where would the fun be?"

Tristan chuckled, "True, then I remembe' watchin' sum Jedi on ta Holo with a pu'ple sabe'. Musta've been good to 'ave no one laugh at 'im."

Obi-Was about to reply, but the voice of his master from their bond kept him.

'_Padawan, where are you? We need to retire, it's almost sun down and Mayor Thompson said that there will be a blizzard tonight.'_ Tristan noticed the hesitation before Obi-Wan could reply.

"Tristan, I think my master is looking for me. I should go check him out back at Mr. Thompson's house." Tristan nodded, understanding.

"Almos' sundow', bes if ya' stay a' home fo' ta nigh'." Obi-Wan offered the older boy a sad smile, but Tristan waved off the forlorn expression with a bright grin.

"Don' bea' you'self o'er it. The'e's still ta morrow. I'd be seein' you then!" However, Tristan did not leave Obi-Wan yet.

The older boy escorted the Padawan learner back to Thompson's house. They passed by plenty of children along the way, and Tristan had to maneuver through them.

The mood was rather light when the boys stepped into Thompson's porch, tidying their boots and shaking off the snow on their clothes.

"See you tomorrow then," Obi-Wan offered his hand.

"On ta morrow then!" Tristan grasped Obi-Wan's hand and pulled him to a hug.

Obi-Wan blushed at the contact, patting the older boy's back awkwardly. They pulled away; Obi-Wan diverted his gaze while Tristan beamed at him.

"Morrow then!" With that, he exited the quaint house and shut the door quietly.

Shaking his head in amusement, Obi-Wan made his way to the parlor where Qui-Gon was waiting.


	2. II

_Spirited Away_

_II_

Thompson had a pair of guest rooms in his home prepared for them–his house was large in terms of the village's size of establishments. The official also invited the pair for dinner, which was thankfully hot and large.

Thompson's wife was present. Martha Thompson was a plump and short woman. She had curly blonde hair and large blue eyes. Her hands were large and calloused from all the house work she did, and her limbs were short and pudgy all due to her non-strenuous activities as the mayor's wife. In their seating arrangement, Martha sat across Thompson, and Qui-Gon sat on Thompson's left with Obi-Wan next to him, Colin sat across from Obi-Wan, and another chair remained empty.

This also meant that the whole family was present, Colin included.

Qui-Gon's face had been a mask of calm and serenity, however beneath it was a storm of unease. Most were warnings from the Force, and the rest was his uneasiness from letting Obi-Wan come into close proximity with Colin. He knew that he should let his apprentice know that he was safe, but he kept his emotions tight behind his shields; his unease would be rolling off in waves and should Obi-Wan feel it, it might aggravate him further.

Obi-Wan was not as good as hiding his emotions as his master. He would throw nervous glances towards Colin as he played with his food. His discomfort and unease were locked behind shield as well, but some leaked through and it was definitely obvious in his expression.

As for Colin, he was staring at Obi-Wan. His unnerving eyes never left Obi-Wan, and the target of the creepy attention shifted uneasily.

Qui-Gon wanted to berate himself. He was a Jedi Master, for star's sake. He should be releasing his unease and other unwanted emotions to the Force, but they were plenty so he had no choice but to release it later on during his meditations. He should comfort his apprentice just as well, but he had no idea how he should do it, exactly.

Colin's presence was just so wrong, and he and Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force. Where specter of light should be, a haze of emptiness neither dark nor light emanated from the boy. Colin's presence did not smother them with darkness, instead his lack of presence tried to draw in everything around him. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Both Jedi could feel the vast nothingness from the boy, trying to draw in whatever it could to fill out the blank space.

Colin was just… wrong.

The dinner was spent mostly in silence; however Qui-Gon and Thompson would exchange a few words regarding the Cradle's situation. Obi-Wan kept his head down mostly, and he would only answer when talked to. Thompson's wife, Martha, would shoot worried glances between him and Colin.

"My first priority tomorrow is to investigate where the children are disappearing, and then we will be reporting our findings to the Council should the weather be agreeable," Qui-Gon said as he cut the steak on his plate.

Obi-Wan dared take a peek towards Colin and regretted it. The younger boy was staring at him as he ate mechanically. He was going through the motions much like a droid. Obi-Wan shuddered; some of the droids had more bits of personality in them, depending on their purpose or based on the personality their creator had.

"I suggest exploring the forest first; most of the trails left were towards that direction," Thompson replied then sipped at the mug of ale prepared for him.

"What about the mansion nearby?" Silence hushed the table, and the air thickened with tension.

Martha and Thompson stopped eating, looking sick and uneasy. Obi-Wan stopped as well, feeling the Thompson couple's distress in the Force. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes.

"King's Fort has been abandoned for years. No one wants to enter there," Thompson said a little too quickly after realizing his hesitation.

Martha excused herself and took Colin with her. Qui-Gon pushed off his plate, opting to interrogate the village official instead. Thompson broke into a sweat, sure that Qui-Gon could see through him.

"Is there something we should know about King's Fort? We need every lead available if you want to find the source of your child's behavior. Cooperating will make this no harder than it should be." Qui-Gon leant back, searching Thompson's face for any signs of deception.

"We…There was a fire. I was a lad then, I had no idea who died, but…" Thompson sighed, his eyes glazed in remembrance. "The lady of the house's son died… She never came out of her house, she… The old officials went to see, she was…" He took a deep breath. "They found her rotting corpse in her own bedroom…"

"Is that when the disappearances began?" Qui-Gon prodded. Thompson nodded, almost wearily.

"They say she cursed us… When they opened her home, they released her spirit," Thompson grabbed the bottle of wine on the table and poured himself a glass, downing the contents in one gulp, "and then some lassie disappeared a few days later… Some say they saw _Her_, but not all go with _Her_." He poured himself another glass. "One or two a year disappear. We do mourn, yes… but ever since Tristan came back from Bandomeer… you know what happened."

Obi-Wan frowned and looked away, the events Thompson recounted… The coincidences were far too good to be true. He and Qui-Gon just got back from Bandomeer, and then they were quickly assigned to Albion–after Obi-Wan's recovery from the healer's wing–where mass disappearances then took place after a native just got back from Bandomeer _right_ after Obi-Wan had just become Qui-Gon's apprentice.

Qui-Gon had gone over most of the details with him earlier. He had a gist of why Colin was… as he was. However, neither has a clue _why_ he was like that. It also didn't explain why he had been staring at Obi-Wan from the moment he laid eyes on him.

A chill ran down Obi-Wan's spine. If Colin was like this, creepy and wouldn't stop staring at Obi-Wan, he couldn't imagine how the _other_ children that disappeared would be around him. He didn't _want _to imagine what would happen.

The image of 'Crazy Old' Lily came to mind.

"Wait… a curse - from a '_her?' _Lily Hewley said something about it!" Obi-Wan asked suddenly. Qui-Gon glanced at him; Obi-Wan quickly glanced down.

He did not mean to not tell his master about his encounter with the deranged old woman. It was… embarrassing. To be snuck up like that without feeling her stalk behind him. The Force should have warned him, but he felt no indication at all. That's disconcerting. The possibility of her not being a danger was just as discomforting as well. Some of that emotion leaked through the mental bond as well.

'_We will be discussing that later, Obi-Wan,'_ Qui-Gon said through the bond. Pink tinged said apprentice's cheeks.

"Aye, a curse; Irene King née Clinton… I used to see her with her son when I was still a lad. I dunno what he looks like now… "Thompson gazed at Obi-Wan, his eyes bright due to inebriation, "I do remember red hair, light eyes...Then a fire in down south, a few miles away where the old plaza was… Lady Irene was in the village; Mum says that someone bought in gunpowder…" Thompson sighed and looked up, smiling ruefully.

Qui-Gon waved it off and motioned for Thompson to continue his tale. It had piqued his interest, and he could feel the Force telling him to listen.

"Forgive me for the shite, I still remember her, pleading—begging and pleading—for someone to save her son. No one wanted to come near, the fire coulda ate the town…" He stood up, sighing. "That's all I know, Master Jedi. All I know is that Barmy Lily knows more 'bout Irene's curse than anyone else. Poor woman lost her lad, Julius, a few years ago; Tristan, David, Mary, and Gordon's been keepin' her together, but even them aren't enough to chase away the madness that took her. Gordon Hewley runs the inn, but you can't go there tonight. Tomorrow will be the best time to go. Martha will be cleaning this up," Thompson said finally, standing up.

"Thank you, Mayor Thompson, for the assistance. It may give us leads on what is happening. If we are unable to get sufficient information from the Hewleys, then Obi-Wan and I will investigate King's Fort." The very moment Qui-Gon had mentioned investigating the old mansion with Obi-Wan, a sense of disquiet came from the Force.

His hair stood up on end and he almost shuddered. The air around them was cold and thick, as if an invisible fog had settled. Ice dropped down on Qui-Gon's stomach, dread raced in Qui-Gon's veins and he quickly decided to remedy the horror that settled in him.

"On another note, I do believe conducting separate investigations is much more beneficial in our situation. I will explore the mansion tomorrow and Obi-Wan will be interviewing the Hewleys. Our comlinks still have power so we would be able to exchange our findings. I believe that I will find more by myself in the mansion."

Obi-Wan frowned, looking down. His master was pushing him away, again. Of course Qui-Gon wouldn't want him present because he'd probably end up in another life-threatening situation, again. He would probably end up getting hurt, and Qui-Gon would have to save him, again.

He simply bowed his head, and conceded to his master's wishes.

"Thank you, this means a lot… If…" a hint of hope entered Thompson's voice," I… please… Save my son."

"We will," Qui-Gon promised solemnly. However, Qui-Gon had a faint sense of… He was not exactly sure what it was, all he knew that there was something not right, something was missing.

As for Obi-Wan, he hoped that they would save Colin.

They left the dining room; Obi-Wan glanced at the open door towards the kitchen. His eyes widened in surprise as he met Colin's stare.

Colin was talking, but no sound came out from his lips. Obi-Wan had a horrid feeling that he did not want to know. Not one bit.

Eager to leave the younger boy's presence, he quickly turned back towards Qui-Gon and Thompson, and followed them towards the hall.

Thompson led them to separate rooms. In Quiet Cradle's standards, Thompson's house could pass for a small mansion (which both found out was named 'Oldé Haven'), but it was far too homely and the structure was a little crooked. Their baggage was on the carriage they had ridden in, and the footman had carried their items to their rooms while they had been busy talking to Thompson. Before retiring, Qui-Gon ordered Obi-Wan to remain in his room for their meditations and to talk.

Qui-Gon's room was a little small, but it was warm and the space was satisfactory. Heavy curtains covered narrow windows with glass panes across the door; a bed was pushed back on one side and a dresser was right next to it; a pair of chairs stood on the other end of the room.

Both Master and Padawan sat on the chairs, facing each other.

"First of all, Padawan, I need you to explain everything to me—_everything_, Obi-Wan. Don't leave a single detail out," Qui-Gon said stoically.

As far as he could see, a woman with that mental temperament was a danger. Should Obi-Wan come in contact with someone like her, she would probably hurt him and Qui-Gon didn't want that to happen. His apprentice had already gone through a lot of things during their short time together, and the strain of having a mad woman hot for your blood was no good either. Even if Lily might have the answers to their investigation, Obi-Wan shouldn't be alone with her.

He might be letting Obi-Wan go where she lived, but there was the presence of Lily's husband and children who would undoubtedly make sure that Obi-Wan was alright. The Force seems to agree on him with this.

Obi-Wan glanced down and fidgeted. His palms were sweaty despite the cold, and he could feel his heart thumping in anticipation.

"Well?" Qui-Gon prodded, Obi-Wan winced.

"I… I was exploring outside. I was about to ask a girl why wasn't she home because her parents were probably looking for her," Obi-Wan said in a small voice.

"Yes, I believe you already explained that. However, I am curious as to when you met this Lily. After all, you did say that Tristan Hewley bumped into you this earlier, which was why he was here when I called you. I wonder why you neglected to mention meeting his mother." Qui-Gon crossed his arms and leant back.

He prodded the bond again and heavy shields kept him from getting a feel of Obi-Wan's thoughts.

Obi-Wan mumbled incoherently, and Qui-Gon sighed. "Pardon?" Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes were wide and embarrassment tinged his cheeks.

"She came from behind… I didn't notice, I…" Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "She was shaking me, saying something about a curse and a woman. Then Tristan came and…"

There was fear in Obi-Wan's voice and his whole frame shook. There was ice in his veins and dread in his gut. The image of Lily's bloodshot eyes as she raved had been far too terrifying for Obi-Wan. The darkness that surrounded her had been born of grief and fear. It was maddening; the chaotic currents her mind created in the Force chilled him. However, the darkness that hung around her destroyed her mind until nothing was left but mad ravings and desperate pleas. The Force said she was no danger, but she was far too mad not to do any harm—

"And?"

"He… pulled her off." Obi-Wan looked away and wrinkled his robe and leggings.

Qui-Gon sighed again. "Obi-Wan, always remember to focus, yet be aware of everything around you. And don't forget to always keep in touch with the Force, neglecting its warnings can—"

"_But the Force gave no warning!_" Obi-Wan clamped his hands over his mouth. He was horrified and shocked; he did not mean to yell at his master.

However, Qui-Gon found himself intrigued.

If the Force gave no warning, then perhaps that was a good sign. The Force wasn't very strong in this almost-wasteland of a planet, but that did not mean it remained elusive to them. If the Force gave Obi-Wan no warning, then leaving him with the Hewleys might seem like the better choice after all.

"I see…" Then silence.

Obi-Wan kept his head down and dared not speak, afraid of the scolding his master would give him. Each second felt like an eternity, ticking away yet not moving forward as fast as he would like.

"We should meditate on this. Tomorrow, after I investigate King's Fort, I will be sending a transmission to the Council. I will leave the village and hopefully return by night fall."

Obi-Wan nodded, Qui-Gon's plans left a sense of disquiet within him. The Force gave no indication of any dangers of staying with Tristan's family. Obi-Wan nodded in subservience.

"I trust that you will be here in Oldé Haven by sundown?"

"Yes Master."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_I_

_His mother wasn't looking at him; she looked busy writing letters in a language he could not understand. He wanted to go out, but it was raining and his mother would surely forbid him. He wanted to see the small fort he dug on in an empty lot in town. He wondered if someone already found it._

_It'd been some time ever since his mother returned, and he didn't know what to make of her. She was cold, like some of his teachers. She never smiled, laughed, or sang. He wished his father was still here._

_Julie was in the kitchen, and Daniel was cleaning the library. He preferred their company over his mother. They were more like family than she was._

_He really wanted to go outside._

_Then he looked back to his mother. He was sitting on a plushy chair in the study, and he could see his mother's lack of desire to be close to him. He'd sighed and looked back at the clock. It was almost evening, and he wondered if he could sneak out tonight. Maybe he shouldn't, his mother would scold him without a doubt. He didn't like getting the brunt edge of her ire. He sighed, curled on his seat; he hugged himself and buried his face in his knees._

_Then he looked up, it was dark already. He let his legs dangle over the chair and he was about to push himself up when he felt his hands pass through the chair. He yelped in surprise and he felt the chair beneath him fade away._

_He fell, and he was faster than when he fell from the second landing. He was screaming and there was fire, and smoke, and screaming, and—_

_Then it was gone. His descent slowed, and he felt himself floating upright. He landed gently on the floor. The floor wasn't really a floor. There was darkness everywhere, and it was so cold._

"_Mum?" he called out, trying to see if there was anything beyond the darkness. Light. There was nothing, just him and this endless expanse of black. "Mum!" he called out again. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing here. He still wondered why he could see without light. The world around him was black, but he wasn't blind to everything around him._

_Shivering, he tentatively walked the not-floor, hoping to find his way back home. He didn't know how long he walked, but when cold wetness began to pool beneath his feet, the world began to change. It was still dark, but it was no longer the eternal blanket of darkness. There was a horrid stench in the air. It was sickly sweet in a way that made him nauseous; it also had that damp scent that filled the basement when it flooded for a night. He turned away from where he was facing, hoping to ease the sharp tingling in his nostrils. Still, he needed to move and find a way out._

"_Arthur?"_

_Wait… his name wasn't Arthur… And no… he wasn't supposed to have a mother. His parents gave him to the Jedi at a young age, and he lived his whole life at the temple. His mentor was Qui-Gon Jinn, and his friends were Bant Eerin, Garen Muln, and Reeft. This wasn't right, this wasn't his life. He reached out to the Force for guidance and comfort, but when he did not feel the ethereal energy comforting him in its embrace. He called out for the warm and soothing presence he usually touched as a child once more. There was still nothing._

_Panicking, he began to run. His feet splashed through puddles of water, but the consistency was too thick to be water and it was sticky against his skin. He didn't want to find out what they were and how they ended up in this place. He didn't want to know how he had believed himself to be someone else. Memories not his own faded away from his mind and vertigo suddenly claimed him. _

_Then there were hands, they were everywhere. On his face, his arms, his legs, his feet. They were pulling and pulling, and clawed and they were dragging him to the murky depths of the sticky water that felt like blood and he was frowning and his lungs were burning and there was fire everywhere and—_

"_Arthur?"_

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

In the dark of the night, Obi-Wan Kenobi screamed.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched his erratic heart. His brain pounded against his skull, and dread raced in his veins. His breath came out in shallow gasps, and his body trembled in fear. Sweat slicked his body and his sheets were hot and sticky despite the cold.

He could feel hands caressing his hair, his face, and Obi-Wan shuddered. His mental shields were thankfully in place, because he had no idea how Qui-Gon would react when Obi-Wan was having one of his nightmares. He leaned back on his bed, and then he wiped away the tears and sweat on his face. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and shifted into a meditative pose, and then he released his anxieties into the Force. Or at least tried to.

He did try, but he couldn't find his center and the comforting light of the Force slipped away from his grasp. Obi-Wan sighed again and lied back on his bed. He clutched the blanket Thompson provided in the room, curled into himself, and tried forget the lingering traces of burning pain his nightmare left in its wake.

He turned to the other side and let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the guest room. From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw something shift. It was by the door; he sat up and squinted in the darkness.

Colin was inside his room; his gaze never left Obi-Wan. It took a few minutes for it to register in Obi-Wan's head that Colin was _inside his room_.

"Colin! Wha—what are you doing he—here?" His voice was a little raspy and his words were slurred. His tongue felt too large for his mouth and his throat was very, very dry. Obi-Wan swung his legs over the bed and quickly stood up. He approached the younger boy to send him back to his room.

He ignored the sensation of being pulled away by the vast emptiness that surrounded the young boy. He tried to release his frustration and discomfort to the Force, but his lack of training kept him from doing so. He would have to be a master to do it easily in any given situation under pressure.

"She misses you." Obi-Wan froze. Colin's monotone echoed in his head.

The floor spun, the world shook, and there was only ice in the air.

"Go home."

Obi-Wan pushed the boy out and slammed his door locked. He pushed himself against the frame; his body shook and sharp gasps escaped his lips.

Damn it. Damn it! Why couldn't he be unafraid just for once? Why couldn't he let go of his fear? This was just some Sith damned mission, why couldn't he be a good Jedi at all? Obi-Wan muffled a frustrated shout, biting his lip and curling into himself.

Frustrated, he hugged his knees and he let the sobs he'd been smothering for a few hours escape. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, his cries shook his frame and his tears stained his cheeks. He pressed his back closer to the door, making his own barricade.

Colin was knocking on his door and trying to get the knob open, but Obi-Wan was ignoring him and chose to wallow in his fear and frustration instead.

Obi-Wan pressed his hands over his ears and buried his face between his knees. He wanted to block out Colin's incessant knocking, but the younger boy did not falter. He tried to release his wariness and fear into the Force once again, but he feared that Qui-Gon might feel his emotions through the mental shields.

It was an hour later when Colin left; he seemed to have given up. Obi-Wan did not dare fall asleep just yet, he feared Colin will return and… All he knew was that the Force did not understand Colin, and he didn't understand Colin either.

He fell asleep on the floor a few hours later, and then he found himself awoken by Qui-Gon's light raps over the door.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Obi-Wan tugged his cloak tighter. He and Qui-Gon had breakfast at Oldé Haven and separated for their destinations afterwards. Now, he's right in front of Green Wood Lodgings, thinking of the details he needed to know from the Hewleys.

The inn was rather large and there was a stable beside it. It was made out of stone, and its roof was thatched. Small windows were spaced evenly on its face, and the oak doors were large. A stone path from the door led to the road, and an iron fence surrounded its lawn. Smoke rose up from its chimney.

Mist came out in small puffs from Obi-Wan's breath. Inhaling deeply, he strode towards the inn. He glanced back and saw a few children emerging from the neighboring homes. Feeling a sense of urgency from the Force, he sped up his strides and quickly knocked on the inn's door.

An old man opened it for him. He was led inside and was told to wait on one of the seats in the lobby.

Bright wallpaper was plastered on the walls. The floor, stairs, and the landing to the second floor were made out of wood; most of the finishing was wood as well. A fireplace was on one side of the room, and a rug made out of a skinned animal was right in front of it. The atmosphere of the building was warm and the scent of cinnamon wafted in the air. There was a hall that led to a set of rooms, and there was another door behind the reception. The seat Obi-Wan vacated had a small table in front that had a bowl of candies on top of it.

"Obi-Wan! Good ta see you he'e!" Obi-Wan stood up and grinned at Tristan's enthusiastic voice. Tristan was on the landing of the second floor and he looked ready to jump just to greet Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan waved at him in greeting, and Tristan grinned in reply.

The boy rushed down the stairs, thankfully without tripping, and he quickly crushed Obi-Wan in a giant bear hug.

"Oomph!" Obi-Wan was laughing, and he hugged Tristan back tightly. Even if wasn't very intimate with his master, he found it much more comfortable being this close to others near his age.

"Wha'a'e you doin' he'e? I neve' though' tha' I'd see you dis early!" Tristan pulled away and held Obi-Wan's shoulders; his blue eyes shone happily.

Obi-Wan felt disheartened, he looked away guiltily before replying, "I was told to investigate here… More specifically, I was told to ask your mother about the King's Fort." Obi-Wan bit his lip and looked down.

"Oh, s'alright. Ma may be bonkers, bu' if she can 'elp, t'en 'salright," Tristan replied. Tristan motioned for Obi-Wan to sit back down while he went back behind the lobby.

"Ma's prob'ly awake now; I'd call Mary and David too." With that Tristan left, disappearing from sight.

Obi-Wan leant back on the soft seat, and exhaled. Tristan's enthusiasm helped him brighten his day, his cheerful disposition and unusual accent managed to make Obi-Wan smile.

The past day was tiring, and Qui-Gon's obvious displeasure at having a padawan hamper his movements also disheartened Obi-Wan. It was almost more than a month after Bandomeer, and yet Obi-Wan had to regain the confidence he had shown Qui-Gon before begging him to become his apprentice. He couldn't speak out or express his emotions in fear of provoking an unwanted reaction from Qui-Gon. Maybe he should have stayed in the Agri-Corps instead…

However, it was people like Tristan that he met on some other missions that helped brighten his day.

He looked around the inn again. The old man that opened the door for him emerged from one of the doors; he was carrying a tray with a three mugs of hot cocoa. The old man smiled at Obi-Wan and handed him a mug.

"Thank you, "Obi-Wan said, taking the hot drink carefully.

"S'nothin', lad. M' name's Gordon. Tristan tol' m' 'lot 'bout ya. A pai' of Jedi hopin' ta know why some spiri' bin gettin' 'em children," the old man, Gordon, said as he set down the tray.

Obi-Wan nodded and replied, "I'm Obi-Wan Kenobi. It's nice to meet you sir."

"So, wha' brin's ya 'ere in Gree' Wood? Bet'cha lookin' fo' ma Lily. She 'asn't bin righ' in da 'ead since," Gordon paused, looking away wistfully, "since Gerard. Gerard's our firs' boy. Af'er Mary and befo'e David. 'e 'as spiri'ed a'ay, Lily follo'ed 'im to King's For'. She 'as ne'er same since then."

"Spirited away?" Obi-Wan leaned forward, interested.

There were legends, folk tales, and other stories from different planets about the term 'spirited away'. One of the most popular one told of a King of the Forest that took away children during the night. He would be riding a horse, accompanied by huntsmen, searching for children that stay awake during the night. He would come silently in the darkness of the eve, inviting the child with promises of golden clothes sewn by a Great Mother, of songs and dance of his Three Daughters, and the promise of the Night in an Enchanted Forest. If he could not invite the child's spirit with him, he would take them forcefully from their parents' arms.

There were also other variations of the tale; however their concept remained the same. Sometimes, the land itself would call to the souls of the light-hearted, singing songs of full of promise and wonder in the land. Some souls would resist, afraid of leaving their loved ones. However they would yearn for the Song of the Land, until they took heed and ran away, never to be seen again.

"Aye, mi' son's bin spiri'ed a'ay. Lady I'ene took him, cursin' all those tha' refused ta save 'er son." Gordon's raspy voice sent chills racing on Obi-Wan's skin.

Other than the Songs of the Land and the Forest King– there were also tales of evil ghosts, demons, and other sinister creatures, biding their time as they waited to snatch children and other poor, unfortunate souls from their homes. When they started taking, they would never stop until no one was left and they wouldn't stop even after everyone was finally gone. True, everything around them would be gone, but should anyone try to live within their domain, the newcomer too would disappear. A huge hole would stand where they had harvested their victims, and it would grow wider should more be added to their collection. Nothing would be able to stop them unless holy magick would bind them, or should someone appease them.

However, these were just myths to Obi-Wan. The Force had the answers, and ghosts did not linger. All those who died became one with the Force. Should someone appear from beyond the Force, it was because the Force willed it. The Force worked strangely, however years of meditation and listening only to its voice would hone the listener's ability to discern the Force's words. Those who let the Force guide their every step lived happily and in their deaths were loved and honored by the Force for all eternity.

Obi-Wan believed that ever since it was taught to him at the temple, and he would never stray from it.

_There is no death. There is only the Force_.

"If he was spirited away, why are the children still here?" Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force, trying to sense Gordon's emotions while waiting for his answer.

"Ya' don' need the body to be tekkin'."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The only path towards King's Fort was outside town; it was fortunate that the distance was not that great.

Snow crunched beneath his boots, and the wind blew against his face even if his hood concealed it. Qui-Gon quietly snuck out of the village, but as he neared the gates, a small cluster of men and women were gathered. They were all grim-faced and their wariness was thick in the Force.

Qui-Gon pulled his hood off and addressed the villagers that had congregated.

"We heard that you're going to King's Fort," a man said as he stepped forward.

"I am." Qui-Gon crossed his arms beneath his sleeves; his expression bore calm and serenity as he assessed the mob.

"Get out of here, you can't save our children. Best you leave that hovel and never come back. Leave while you still have the chance," an old man rasped angrily. Qui-Gon inclined his head in reply.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Qui-Gon bowed his head and strode away, his destination: King's Fort.

"You'll regret it! Save your own before she can take him away!"

The words echoed ominously over his head, but he paid them no heed and released his distress to the Force. Nothing bad would happen to Obi-Wan; he's sure of it. Though, he should check on the boy to see if he was doing fine. But his apprentice might feel more incapable and ashamed. There were small flashes of those emotions that Qui-Gon would sometimes feel through their bond. He had a suspicion why, but he had no idea how to approach Obi-Wan about them. It would be a lot easier if Obi-Wan approached him, like Xanatos— no, he wouldn't go there.

Obi-Wan was not Xanatos, but it would give Qui-Gon a good idea how to interact with his Padawan if Obi-Wan bore greater similarities with the fallen Jedi.

The walk was quiet and long; none of the villagers followed him. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled over his shoulders. He couldn't turn back now. He could already see the mansion in the distance and he'd be damned not to give this mission a conclusion.

But as he neared the gloomy building, he saw a silhouetted outline of a woman waiting for him. She was strange and reminded Qui-Gon of an asylum escapee. He had no plans of talking to her, but she seemed to think otherwise. He passed through a few feet away from her when she spoke.

"You… You have a son…" Qui-Gon paused and turned to her; he did not reply.

"Leave… Go… He needs you," she rasped out, her mad eyes bulged.

Qui-Gon only inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I already gave my word."

"_He lies!_" she hissed, "You will regret coming here, and it will be far too late! She has seen him! I—"she clamped her mouth shut and snarled at Qui-Gon. His hand quickly reached for his lightsaber, but he relaxed as he could sense no threat from her through the Force.

"You will regret it. She will come for _him_, and when she takes your child… Everything is lost." Dread dropped in Qui-Gon's stomach. With that, the woman shuffled away; she muttered curses and omens beneath her breath. She huddled into her filthy shawl; her eyes strayed creepily into different directions.

Cold chills raced down Qui-Gon's spine. He tried to shake off the sense of uneasiness the madwoman left him, but it was nearly impossible. Moments passed before he regained his equilibrium and resumed his journey.

As he walked, he contemplated her words, discerning what could she meant. For one, he wondered if she was actually talking about Thompson. He sensed no deception from the older man, but he did sense the Albian omitting a few details. Qui-Gon would definitely ask Thompson about it later.

He wanted to think more about what the crazed mother said, but e had no time to worry about that as King's Fort loomed over him.

The mansion was old and decrepit. Flagstones paved a path towards the porch, where a boarded door waited. The paint on the walls was peeled off, and dust and grime covered every inch of the building. There were a few holes in the roof, and a lot of the windows were either broken or boarded. However, the window on the porch was open, but its hinges were rusty and its panes were broken.

Mist hung around the King's Fort, and an air of dread festered in the atmosphere.

Qui-Gon grasped his cloak tightly around him and shivered. He could sense the Force whispering in distress, telling him to turn back and leave the planet. However, as much as he appreciated the Force's warnings, he has a purpose that needed to be done.

Walking up the steps of the porch, he tested if he could remove the boards around the door. The nails around it were rusty and crooked, the wood was rotting, and a horrible smell came off from it.

'_The window it is then,'_ he thought.

The Jedi master stepped towards the window and pushed the pane up; he hoped that he'd fit through. He sat on the ledge and put a leg inside, the other leg followed, and then he quickly slid down the window. The floor beneath him groaned, it was made of wood and it was rotted.

Finally inside, he took a look around and began his journey.

_A mother smiles, he can lead her back to her child._

**Notes: **Once more, thanks to WargishBoromirFan for the help~ I think I did plenty of improvements over the last chapter… That and I would really appreciate feedback. Not that there's anything wrong with having no reviews, but I want to know where I did bad or where I was good so I can improve.

That aside, at do you guys think? I'm planning a future _legit_ crossover between Star Wars and Fatal Frame: The Tormented, with Xanatos as the Star. Sort of an in-between after this is done and a future story titled 'Haunted'.


	3. III

_****_**Notes: **Big thanks to WargishBoromirFan for beta-reading this monster and big thanks to my readers and reviewers. :3 I'm not sure if I managed to reply to every review, but worry not, I'll check it out later. Also, I would like to suggest listening to this playlist as you guys read through the third chapter. Big thanks and kisses to you all! :D

www . youtube playlist?list = PLcn3x7jk5D4sqye7BUxBjKRBsoy 5_08OZ&feature=mh_lolz

* * *

_**Spirited Away**_

_III_

The mansion's inside was just as decrepit as outside.

There was no lighting on the inside; Qui-Gon had to pick his torch to illuminate the area. The light contrasted eerily with the darkness, it cast over shadows in the walls and floors that trembled against the light. Dust and cobwebs covered every inch of the wooden floor and cracked ceiling, the walls were cracked and stained, the paint was peeling, and the wallpaper was rotting. Cold air seeped through the cracks and through the small gaps of the floor, the wind was howling and there was the sound of steady thumping coming from the upper floors.

Qui-Gon did not like this at all, especially the disturbance he could feel from the Force.

He supposed that the dead house would bear no presence, yet King's Fort felt alive. The light of living beings shone in the desolate home and the Force shone so blindingly that Qui-Gon had to slam his mental shields to keep the assault of light away; the air felt alive when it shouldn't be. The home was too decrepit and too dead for it to bear any living presence, yet Qui-Gon could feel through the Force that it was otherwise. What made it worse was that almost all these presences felt _young_.

Then the atmosphere felt wrong just as well. From all sides, Qui-Gon felt something pushing against him, trying to crush and overwhelm him. It was not the dark side, but it felt as if he was thrust in a crowd and he's trying to get out. He was relieved for having the forethought to strengthen his shields in the Force as he had no idea how his mind would accept the heavy presences that tried to beat him senseless.

There was the feeling of dread too. The air felt wrong and too cold, there was a clear picture in front of Qui-Gon's eyes, but a translucent film washed over it so that Qui-Gon did know if he could really see it clearly or it was just an illusion. He could see the Force flowing in the house, twisting and turning and spreading out in complicated passage ways. He could almost feel how the Force had to flow through an artificial path that crisscrossed every door, window, and room in the building. There was an epicenter, yet it was heavily obscured by the paths and the only way through was to go through the networks. To disrupt the network would cause it to fall apart and every presence it had amassed over the years would be sucked into the epicenter, but they wouldn't be released into the Force. Every beacon of light that shone in the oppressive house would be trapped in the very center that sustained the structure. They would find no peace and they would never leave the place ever again.

He definitely hated this situation, and he already had a sneaking suspicion that these presences came from the victims of Quiet Cradle. This was the reason why they all felt empty and void of life, yet they continued on as if they were truly alive. He could even feel that the presence that took them was still active and continued to search for more victims to lure into its trap. Even now, he felt that he should turn tail and get Obi-Wan away from here and let the people deal with these on their own. However, by his duties as a Jedi Master, he must help these people. He also gave his word to help, so he would. Though he could only hope that it wouldn't cost Obi-Wan's life.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward; the wood creaked beneath his weight. It echoed in the deep silence, yet it did not deafen Qui-Gon from the steady thumping coming from the upper floors. He had to wonder if there was a basement, because the wood felt off and a musty smell wafted from them. He waved his torch around the walls, looking for anything of note. He gathered his unease and tried to release it to the Force, yet he felt the oppressive silence greeting him. He quickly retreated and kept the growing apprehension within his shields.

Looked like it was going to be a long day.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and there was a hint of fear and curiosity in them.

"Lad, he used to 'ave a body, now…" Gordon looked ten years older then and Obi-Wan felt the heaviness clogging the atmosphere. Grief and pain were etched freshly on Gordon's face, yet his eyes shone with remembrance.

"Lily wasn't from here; married 'er from next town. We used to live t'ere, but we 'ad to move 'ere because we 'ad no fill. There was Mary, Gerard, David, t'en Tristan. M'boy Trista, barely a'ay f'om 'is ma's bosom. I was born 'ere, so… I knew. I knew 'bout tha' curse. Yet I let Lily come anyway, neve' mind that we 'ad a lad barely five," Gordon took a deep breath and reached for his coat, he took a pipe out and a box of matches. Obi-Wan could smell sickly sweet, yet bitter residue from a strange scent the pipe released. Gordon lit it and inhaled and blew out the intoxicating smoke.

"If you we'e born 'ere, you'd neve' see 'er 'ouse. It was on our first night, I checked if Gerard was there." Gordon took a deep breath within the pipe; his eyes were alit with loss. "I didn't know where ta look, but Lily… Lily… She can see the mansion; she saw 'is footprints. She fo'owed 'im, then… then…" Gordon hung his head in anguish, but his tears had long dried and his sorrow numbed with time.

Obi-Wan did not speak; he bowed his head and let the older man be relieved of his grief. Gordon did not speak, the past few weeks had been a painful reminder of what he had lost, but he still needed to tell Obi-Wan what happened to the old victims. Whatever happened to the children, Obi-Wan hoped it wasn't worse than dying.

"They we'e both 'ere by mornin', but Lily… she ain't t'a same. She saw sumthin', it ate a'ay at 'er, she neve' tol' us what she saw. She was losin' it, then… Gone… Gerard, gone fo'eve'. He wasn't dead, jus' gone… It was a yea' eve' since that bloody fo't. We neve' found 'im, we didn't even t'y. I—"

"Pa! Pa! Where's ma?" Both turned towards the inn's door. A woman in her mid-twenties wearing heavy clothes, her dark hair tied in a bun, and her large blue eyes shone with worry. Her hands looked rough and calloused, and her shoes were worn and old. She looked a lot like Tristan, bearing the same small nose and plump cheeks. Obi-Wan thought she was pretty and he blushed.

"Mary! You'e not with you' ma? Tristan was suppo'ed to getcha and Ma. Then, wh'e a'e they?" Gordon rose from his seat, alarmed. Mary shook her head, worried as well.

"I was supposed to help her bathe, but she wasn't in her room. Are you sure you sent Tristan to check on her?" Gordon was about to reply when the front door opened. Obi-Wan wondered why her accent sounded different from Gordon and Tristan's; it sounded very Deep-Core and less butchered. All three turned towards the door, waiting for someone to enter.

Obi-Wan paled and ducked, hoping that the intruder did not see him. Lily walked inside; her eyes were blank and she was muttering incomprehensibly. She looked as if she were drifting instead of walking; slowly, she went up the stairs, muttering a few curses and ignoring everyone in the room.

Mary sighed and sat down with a wary expression on her face; Gordon coughed and sat down next to his daughter.

"We're really sorry you had to see Ma like that. Tristan did mention her assaulting you," Mary said with a rueful smile.

Obi-Wan blushed and looked down; he peered up and met Mary's eyes. "It's alright. I should have been more careful."

Gordon coughed and stood up; a strange expression was on his face. "I bette' look fo' Tristan. If his ma's outside, he prob'ly follo'ed 'er." He walked towards the counter and grabbed a thick coat and draped it over himself. He grabbed a cap next and quickly left the inn, a worried expression plastered on his face. He almost slammed the door when he exited the building.

Mary was frowning, looking at the closed door. Obi-Wan fidgeted. The air around him felt heavy and awkward and he did not know what to say.

"Tristan visits the mansion, ever since he turned thirteen." Obi-Wan's eyes widened in alarm at Mary's statement. "He isn't very worried about disappearing too… But he is too old to be taken. Sooner or later, he'll stop seeing it, and he will never return."

"Why?" Obi-Wan asked, curious and worried about his new friend. The older woman smiled at him softly and clasped her fingers together.

"Well, Ma had gone mad long before Tristan could utter his first word. So, he never knew what it was like growing up with a mother. Pa had to take care of him, while Ma never stopped mourning Gerard. I… guess he wondered and missed her, and maybe he was a little envious of us. For having memories of a loving mother while he never knew what she was like without the madness."

Obi-Wan was taught that attachment was against the Code, and it a lot had gone down the dark side because of it. Though he wondered, what made Jedi different from other people? Most normal people were allowed attachments and it was said that not all became power-hungry, lust-driven, hateful monsters. Then again, they did not hear the call the Dark Side of the Force which was why Jedi were not allowed. Still, Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder…

Though, he was certain that Tristan's lack of respect towards his mother probably was rooted in resentment over the fact that she was not capable of caring for him as she did with his older siblings. As troubling as their history was, Obi-Wan needed to well… Find as much information as he could from the Hewleys.

From what he gathered, the child disappeared overnight, then some time would pass before they disappeared for good. Natives of the village could not find the mansion, but foreigners could.

Panic rose in Obi-Wan and he quickly reached for his comlink and contacted Qui-Gon.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He wasn't alone. There was someone here, and Qui-Gon wasn't sure if it was alive or not.

The life thrumming in the house was overwhelming and bright; his harmony with the Living Force had to tone down and he had to rely on his physical senses to observe so that his surroundings would not overwhelm him.

He was checking the dining room. The mansion wasn't overtly large; however, it did have plenty of rooms. There was a crudely drawn map in the hall, but it had plenty of notes scrawled on it. There were symbols on the sides of the paper that Qui-Gon found peculiar and strange. It all seemed like a jumbled mess, with lists of items and locked doors.

King's Fort had three floors, sans the attic and basement. There was a greenhouse built on the side that lead from the parlour that was three stories high and also served as a function room or ball room for special occasions. The parlour was on the left side of the house, and it led to the library and study. The dining hall was parallel to it and it led towards the kitchen, and the kitchen led towards the basement and servant's quarters. The basement had a gallery and a pantry.

A large set of stairs led to the second floor, but it wasn't completely closed off by the ceiling. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and railings were built on the landing's sides. There was a music room, a nursery, and a liquor room. There was a spiral staircase in the middle of the hall that led to the third floor. The third floor had two bed rooms and a master's bed room. There were two bathrooms on the third floor, and a passage leading to the attic. The attic had its storage room and a workshop.

Qui-Gon could see almost half of all the doors in the home were marked as locked on the map, but he was willing to check them later. However, what he found as strange was the energy surrounding the house. It wasn't exactly the Force, but it… _held_ the decrepit building in a peculiar way that Qui-Gon felt apprehensive to disturb them. He did feel that there were focal points randomly placed around that fit on the kinks of the network that entombed King's Fort.

The dining hall was old and smelled horrible. The chairs were piled on a corner, broken and smashed, with shards and splinters scattered around the floor. The curtains still hung on the windows, but they look more like thin, moth-eaten rags that the heavy velvet they used to be. Food, or what used to be food, was still on the table, but rodents and other pests either consumed it or turned it into their homes. There was a horrid smell in the air that was a mix of dead wood, rotting garbage, and a sickly sweet substance that was a little familiar to Qui-Gon.

In the dining hall, the door towards the kitchen was strange. It was boarded, but it wasn't wood that covered the entrance. A strange and crude-looking mechanism made with pulleys, levers, and chains barely covered with metallic casing was bolted on the door. There were four boxes on the center with thin slots on top, alternating between black and red that had four symbols etched on the surface: the symbols were a heart, a spade, a clover, and a diamond. There was also a keyhole on top of the boxes, set on the very center. Through the keyhole, Qui-Gon could see the gears and chain-pulleys connecting each part of the mechanism to the other. The handle wasn't fully out, and the Jedi had a feeling that it would open when the items needed are inserted. There was a short message in basic though, and it gave enough clues to Qui-Gon.

'_Experts only!'_

A line of thought began to form in his head when he heard a loud crash just outside the room. He quickly rushed towards the source, his hand already above his lightsaber and ready to defend. What he found was unexpected, but Qui-Gon couldn't help but be surprised to see someone following him.

It was a boy, barely out of his teenage years. He had dark hair and blue eyes and Xanatos came to the very forefront of Qui-Gon's mind so suddenly that he had to blink three times just to be sure. The only thing that kept Qui-Gon from whipping out his lightsaber and attacking the boy was the fact that his clothes were too ragged for Xanatos to wear.

"N 'ccident, I swea'. I tha' was clumsy of me." The boy's accent was too thick, butchered, and too _rural_ to be comparable to Xanatos's elegant and cultured tone and intonation.

"Well, I believe an explanation would better suit us," Qui-Gon replied. The boy grinned sheepishly and shucked off his jacket and shirt.

"'M Tristan Hewley; pleasu'e to meet'cha, Miste' Jedi." The boy held a hand up and Qui-Gon shook it.

"Obi-Wan mentioned you the night before," Qui-Gon frowned. "This place is dangerous for you; you should return home. Your parents are probably worried."

"No! I mea', I… I wen' 'ere befo'e, I fo'got somethin', and I 'ave to giddit back," Tristan's eyes darted around. He was obviously lying, and Qui-Gon would be more than glad to haul his rear outside.

"I'm afraid I can't let you stay. Go home; you don't need to be here." Qui-Gon added a Force-induced compulsion on his voice, but Tristan looked unconvinced in the slightest.

"No." Tristan was scowling darkly, but he refused to meet the Jedi's gaze. Qui-Gon repeated the command, but his efforts were met with a dark glare.

He felt the weight of age catching up, he supposed that he couldn't postpone his own investigation and he really should just let the boy come. The Force made no indication if his decision was for the better. Or worse.

"Very well then, let's go." Qui-Gon handed Tristan his own flashlight.

The boy stood close to Qui-Gon; all his bravado and courage were gone under the oppressive atmosphere of the abandoned home. Tristan pulled his jacket closer. His discomfort at the unnerving silence rolled off in waves in the Force. He found a way to keep it bay within the next few moments.

"Sir, I was wonderin' why Obi-Wan wasn't very happy to see ya. Though, I've been wonderin' how he knew you were lookin' for 'im. Is dat a Jedi thin'?" Qui-Gon paused; they stood before the threshold of the parlor.

Usually, natives from primitive worlds tend to be superstitious and regard Jedi either as cultists or a strange supernatural sect. There were times that they could not grasp the concept of the Force, always in search for an invisible and invincible deity that was responsible for a great deal of life that surrounded the galaxy. If it wasn't a singular deity, a collection of deities would represent each being brought forth by the Force. There were a lot of things people did not understand, but Qui-Gon would still do the best he could to explain to Tristan the concept of his training bond with Obi-Wan.

"Obi-Wan and I have a training bond. It is a mental link between a master and padawan that allows us to read each other's mind and emotions. I called him yesterday through it." Tristan's face was scrunched in concentration. When he did not respond, Qui-Gon continued. "It's very similar to reading a book, except it begins as blank and letters slowly form that spell out the condition of the other."

"_Oh._ I think I giddit now," Tristan paused, awkwardness flared from him. "Dis room su'e is dusty…" The boy was blushing, Qui-Gon noted.

Dusty was an understatement. The whole parlor was in shambles; the carpet was torn, stains were on the walls and the floor, furniture was overthrown, papers and other clutter were scattered on the floor, the fireplace was boarded up, and the windows were missing panes. When Qui-Gon looked down, he noticed the dust on the floor was disturbed. Small footprints were everywhere – it led to the greenhouse and library, then they all backtracked to the main hall. Perhaps more answer lay within the upper floors, then?

He thought about the door in the kitchen. He was a little familiar with the planet's version of sabaac. He did know that a lot of the natives use four classes of cards – 13 per set – it would have three officials, nine numbered cards, and an 'Ace'. Ace was also synonymous to 'Experts' - it also used the symbols and color scheme on the door - it was apparent that only cards can be inserted on those slots, meaning that they should look for aces and a key. Perhaps the key would have a sign that would be different then? If not, they could scour the house for keys and try it on the door. If they found nothing, then they could try to return next time.

"What can I do ta help Miste' Qui-Gon?" The Jedi thought about it, he prodded the Force for any warnings. Once again, it remained elusive and gave no indication that it was a harmful activity.

"Alright, try to look for something important. The door in the kitchen needs four cards." Tristan raised an eyebrow. "There is a strange door in the kitchen, and it is in need of strange keys. Try looking for aces." Tristan shrugged and made a beeline towards the left side of the room, the side with the door leading to the library and study.

Qui-Gon shook his head and approached the fireplace. There was soot above the stone, and there were a few pieces of paper stacked on top. Curious, the Jedi picked up the papers and shook the ashes off. It was peculiar to see the contents written in Basic instead of the planet's curved alphabet, even if some were blurred beyond recognition; it also included strange symbols and figures. The edges of the paper were a little torn and yellowed, but one side of each of them looked more like they had been ripped instead of weathering away. It might have come from a tome – a very old tome.

'_The —world was once within our —. Spirits and men— with one —, men stood before the—of—, angels and—fought in—. Then a great—which then— now we stand—. However, men have always and had and— will be resilient. We may have—it, but still it lives within—. We have called it a thousand— and a thousand more. The very essence of the Old —remains, yet men continue to— for it, in its name, and in its glory. In order to attain the Truth, man must first —.'_ Beneath it, there was a drawing of men bowing to a gigantic man seated on a throne -some of the details showed that the man was glowing. Qui-Gon flipped it; it wasn't blank, but it was a stark contrast to the page he first laid his eyes on.

'_Man will bring forth our—! We bear no — and eternal — is in our midst! The price of— is —, and we will pay for it in full. The blood of our — will not — our rapture! Our burdens are —and will always be. In our suffering, we gain our —. We will not be —. '_There were sentient beings that were humanoid in appearance. However, only a few have disturbed Qui-Gon on first appearance. The drawing beneath the passage was that of a being with the body of a man, with the face of man, yet the back was goat-like. It was a sketch, but the expression on its face was life-like and if Qui-Gon did not know any better, it looked real. The face was twisted into a vicious snarl, rotting fangs dripped with saliva, and some of the skin looked diseased in festering.

He did not know what prompted him- by the Force perhaps, but that was a little debatable. Qui-Gon pocketed the piece of paper. The other pages bore similar subjects of the first passage, but there was nothing more to it. He wasn't familiar with the beliefs, but it unnerved him.

"What'cha think dis is?" Tristan was right behind him and he almost poked Qui-Gon's eye with a statuette the size of a finger- it was a symbol of the planet's more polytheistic deities before they shifted to monotheism; it was made in the image of the Mother of the Heavens. "It looked a bi' like tha ones from Mary's books. Like tha idols pagan worshipped instea' of God."

"It seems that you're right. It is a figure based on the image of the Mother of Heaven." The Force gave a hummed, urging Qui-Gon to take the figure; he needed it, the Force was telling him. _'Did it guide Tristan?'_ Never mind that. He followed its will; he took the offered stone idol and put it inside a small pouch on his utility belt. The Force hummed in contentment at the Jedi's obedience. Then it quieted once again. "Let us hold on to it for now."

Qui-Gon remembered the thumping he heard the moment he stepped inside. Was it louder? He tuned it out and ignored it for most of the part. Now he realized how quiet it had gone inside the house, and the thumps were the only noise besides his and his companion's breathing. Should he take note of it and investigate it now? He prayed for guidance from the Force, but it remained quiet. Blast it.

"Alrigh' then." The teenager was looking at him strangely, but the boy shook his head and resumed the search.

There was a box near the door to the greenhouse; it was very dusty, but it was relatively intact. It simple compared to the lavishness of the house, or supposed lavishness if it were in better conditions. The keyhole was missing, and the hinges looked ready to fall apart. Qui-Gon neared it and knelt down; he lifted the lid off and picked up the contents. It contained a key, a card, and three astrological symbols. The Force flared to life and urged Qui-Gon to take them all. The Jedi frowned; he understood the need of the playing card, but not the other items. He wondered why the Force was guiding him to pick up the other strange knick-knacks, but he supposed that it had a good reason to guide him like that. He stored them all inside his belt.

"Miste' Jinn! You oughta see dis!" Said Master looked over his shoulder. The boy was holding up a very old framed photograph. A woman wearing an elaborate gown with an elegantly dressed boy stood side by side in front of the house, but their faces were scratched away and there was a message written with fading brown ink. It was written in the Albian. "It says 'Third Day – March 4'. Eh? I don't giddit."

Qui-Gon did not know what it meant either, but he made note of the cryptic words. They might need it later, so he would keep this bit of information at the back of his mind. The Force hummed gently; it was guiding Qui-Gon away from the parlor. They wouldn't find anything of importance here, now; another location awaited them. The library felt like a good place to go next.

Tristan suddenly whipped his head around. "Didja heart that?"

Qui-Gon frowned. There was the thumping and their footsteps, but nothing more. "I didn't hear anything, except for the rhythmic pounding below us."

Tristan shuddered and a flicker of fear passed through him. "Sorry 'bout that. Must'ave been the win'."

A lot of strange things are afoot, and he could feel the boy's paranoia increasing with the sudden auditory illusion. Wind blew and the reek of rotting wood permeated the air. That could have been with the boy heard. There was the feeling that it wasn't right, but… The Jedi did not know what to make of it, but he kept that tidbit on the back of his mind.

"Let's go then." Tristan huddled next to Qui-Gon.

The library's door was open; the carpet was stained black, the wallpapers were peeling, and the shelves were destroyed. Books littered the floor, and a lot of them were destroyed. Only a few objects were spared from the destruction and death that filled the mansion, and those were the first things Qui-Gon approached.

"There was a gypsy once, he was a fortu'e telle' too. He 'ad cards like dis." Tristan picked up said object. It held the picture of a queen in regal clothing. "Mary said he was good at predictin' the morrow, I remembe' askin 'im about our crops once. He said we'd 'ave famine, he left a few days befo' it."

"Hmm. I'll pocket this for now, we might need it later."

There was a coffee table at the center of the room, an envelope lied on top. Qui-Gon made his way through the littered books and splintered wood, and then he picked up the envelope and tore it open carefully. The papers inside were intact, even if they looked like as if they were ripped from a book; their passages were in basic and they were thankfully comprehensible.

'_March 1  
Dear John,  
I have a lot of things to tell you, my dear brother. Forgive me__, __for Albion does not have any datapads or holos. I just returned to this planet after receiving a message from my old husband. I would never had known that he was already dead for a year, had not one of the natives from an old village I visited recognized me. I had conceived his child, but we left with the most bitter of relations a year after the boy was born__,__ ten years ago. All he had left was Arthur._

_It was hard, I never wanted to leave my son, but I could not stand that man! Forgive me for being foolish __enough__ to marry him, I should have known that our differences run deep and love did not bind us. Lust had, to my shame, prompted me to marry him. However, I loved my son, my Arthur._

_I don't know what to do with him. He is a very quiet boy, and he recoils whenever I am near. It is partly my fault. Derrick still left pain and gaping wounds in my heart, and I fear that it may have affected how I treat Arthur. I held it him at arm's length for I fear my love is growing by the day as I gaze in his oceanic eyes. This fear of loss made me irrational, now my own blood and flesh could not even trust me. I c__annot__ not treat him how a mother treats her child, no matter how I wish to. It pains me each day to see him fear me and consider me a stranger. I wish to see him smile with pure joy instead of look down in subservience as if I am a disciplinary matron. I do not want that! I wish for love from my son!_

_I don't know what to do._

_With love,  
Irene'_

There was a bitter taste in his mouth, and his lips felt dry and cracked. Somehow, the letter hit a little too close to home and it left a nasty taste in its wake. There was a heavy lump in his throat and a pang in his heart. Irene's dilemma was too familiar and it left a lot of questions instead of giving answers. He didn't have the time to reflect on this situation, other than intruding on the personal life of someone else. He pocketed the letter.

"Pretty sad, tha' one. Must'ave been 'ard for Arthur." Qui-Gon did not answer.

The Force silently comforted him and Qui-Gon released his grievances to it. There was nothing else to find in this room. He thought of heading towards the library next, but the Force flared in warning so harshly that it almost tore a crack in his shielding. He'd save the study for later; the greenhouse should be their next destination. The Force shrieked again in a warning that almost made Qui-Gon physically stumble in surprise. Then the second floor should be alright then?

When the Force gave no more warnings of impending doom, Qui-Gon spoke. "Let's go up."

Tristan turned to him in surprise. "Huh? We didn't check out tha study yet!"

The older man shook his head. "I don't think there are any other things of interest on this floor." The boy frowned, but he did concede. It was a good thing the teen knew when to pick his battles.

The two backtracked from the library towards the main hall. They stopped in front of the stairs. The stripped chandelier loomed ominously over them, and the landing of the second floor was definitely unwelcoming and ready to fall apart. Qui-Gon shook his head, might as well get this over with. When he took the first step, the wood creaked against his weight, and both cringed at how loud it sounded.

"I thi'k it'll fall." Yet Tristan took the next step.

"Let's hope it doesn't." Then they climbed.

The first place he had in mind was liquor room, and the Force was quiet in Qui-Gon's decision. Whether it was a good thing or a bad thing remained debatable. It was on the left side of the floor, near the spiral staircase. The door was missing and Qui-Gon could see the interior from where he and Tristan stood.

"Tha's a lot of booze, I wo'der if tha lady of tha home was pissed mos' of tha time."

"It may have come from the previous inhabitants after the original owner."

The liquor room was intact, even the bottles of alcoholic beverages were neither looted nor broken. It could have been called clean if it wasn't full of dust and cobwebs. Shelves full of liquor lined the walls and there was a small round table in the center with three chairs around it; a bottle of cognac with a glass next to it was on top. Not even the windows were boarded, and there were no random clutter on the floor. What caught Qui-Gon's eye was the tiny statuette on top of a card. Other than those two, there was nothing else of interest.

"Dat's tha God of Death, and dat's 'nother Tarot card!" The boy strode excitedly towards the table.

A sudden chill crawled down Qui-Gon's spine and the impulse to enter the room with Tristan filled him. He obediently followed it, and then the chill was gone. It was definitely something to think about. Suddenly, the notion they were alone was suddenly becoming less likely. When he will start feeling the thousand eyes behind his head then?

"Alright, let's start looking." Then they began to snoop around. Qui-Gon began to look at one of the shelves on the left side of the room. A small strip of white beneath a bottle quickly caught Qui-Gon's eye; he lifted the bottle and picked it up. Once again, it was written in Basic.

'_Gone, I never had a chance. He's gone… He's all I have left… Gone… Gone… Gone— It's all their fault! They could have saved him! He's gone because of them!'_

It was shorter than the other two, but Force whispered that it was significant. It was a small piece to a big picture that the Jedi maverick has yet to see.

_Crash!_

Qui-Gon turned towards Tristan, and the boy was shuffling away from a mess of glass and alcohol to his side. He was cursing angrily beneath his breath.

"What happened?" Qui-Gon prompted; his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I t'ought I 'eard sumone laughin', startled me."

Was the boy suffering from delusions perhaps? The Force gave him a negative answer. That did not bode well. Perhaps they weren't really as alone as they would like to think. The Force hummed; there was nothing to be found in this room.

"There's nothing here." Tristan nodded. The boy was trembling as they both left the room. They headed towards the music room next.

The door to the music room had a large plate-like device on the center. There were six holes positioned circularly, but they were paired and distanced evenly. There were finger-sized figures inserted on them, and now Qui-Gon had a clue on what to do next. He recognized the moon goddess side by side with the god of sun, the goddess of love was next to the god of war, the god of the sea stood alone, and the Father of Heaven was solitary as well. Qui-Gon fished his utility belt for the statuettes; he inserted the God of Death next to the God of the Sea, and then he slid the Mother next to the Father.

There were clicking sounds coming from the plate then the door creaked open.

The music room was surprisingly intact as well; it was furnished almost sparingly. A piano was placed near a boarded window, and a dusty sheet covered it. There was a cello propped up at one corner, and a table was next to it – it had a violin and viola case on top. The walls were lined from top to bottom with mirrors, and the floor was once polished wood. There were footprints inside.

Tristan whipped his head again; his eyes were wide and shock rippled through the Force from him. "Did'ya 'ear that? The sumthin' slammed on tha piano!"

No, Qui-Gon did not hear anything. He could only hope that they wouldn't find anything that they couldn't run from.

It was possible that Irene King left something else besides her rotting corpse.


End file.
